My Journey

I like the idea of a sprouted mind. When I started graduate school, I realized I didn’t know as much as I thought I knew. The learning process took me on a roller-coaster ride and some days I walked around amazed at my new knowledge and other days I wanted to unlearn everything. One of my classes required the book, The Moviegoer by Walker Percy, and I was introduced to my favorite word, ennui. I loved that this word described an odd state of mind where even the body aches with banal repetition of everydayness. Fast forward to the final year of completing my doctoral degree. I somehow managed to complete my dissertation during my son’s first year of life. I went back to work when he was three months old and thought it would be a seamless adjustment. Reflectively, I’ll describe it as blissful ignorance when it came to what to expect with postpartum hormones, work obligations, and home obligations. I lived in a state of ennui just trying to exist and keep my little human alive.

The final months of writing my dissertation were painful. I felt overwhelmed, stagnant, and anxious after defending my dissertation. As much as I wanted to celebrate, I lived in a state of constant hurdles for so long it felt pointless to feel. Time moved forward; the degree conferred; graduation happened. I felt as though my Albatross of an incomplete doctorate violently fell from my neck and left a void instead of freedom. I tried learning hobbies like gardening and canning jams and pickles. I thought when I completed my terminal degree all of the stresses of my world would cease. I blame the postpartum hormones for making me a bit unhinged with skewed thoughts of what life should be like once I completed this goal I had set for myself so long ago; however, new stresses replaced the old stresses, so the cycle of anxiety and stress continued. At a pivotal point, my husband treated me to a yoga retreat weekend. I went alone armed only with a book, Aim True by Kathryn Budig, at the suggestion of my favorite yoga teacher, Taylor Henry of Seva Yoga Studio.

The retreat yoga instructors held the most positive genuine presence. At the time, I didn’t know how I was going to acquire this type of presence in myself, but I knew I wanted to know whatever it was they knew. I acquired some knowledge by attending a yoga festival, but I was thirsty for more. I bought some books, but I didn’t understand all the Sanskrit translations. Despite my mind chattering doubts due to my weight and fitness level, I enrolled in yoga teacher training to see what I needed to learn to be a better person. Even though I experienced graduate education, I had not experienced the feeling of having my eyelids pulled back to see something so seen yet unseen since one of my graduate classes pointed out Romeo and Juliet wasn’t a love story, but instead a cautionary tale of what happens when children defy their parents.

I am still a work in progress learning and applying yogic principles to my life. I get frustrated at times with the physical practice of yoga. I am grateful there are eight limbs of yoga and the physical practice is just part of a bigger picture. I love that everyday is a different experience with the practice of yoga, and even the days when I fall on the mat or lose focus during meditation teaches me something about myself if I am willing to observe the patterns. Then lies the difficulty in resetting the patterns to make a change.  I know ennui plagued me in the past because I tried to determine my happiness with arbitrary goals instead of being present, mindful, and grateful. I am polluted by knowledge, yet I graciously continue to pursue as much learning as my sprouted mind can absorb.